Dreaming Of(f) You

**Chapter One**

**Chapter One**

"Mom, do you know in what box my ripped blue jeans are?" I shout from upstairs. No answer. I let out an annoyed sigh.

"Mom!" I impatiently tap my fingers on the railing of the staircase.

My mom comes to the base of the stairs and looks up with a very stern expression. Great now she is angry.

"No Skylar I do not know where your ripped blue jeans are, since I wasn't the one who packed your boxes!" she snaps back, emphasizing the word your. I roll my eyes in return and walk back into my room. I roam through it and search all the boxes twice, but these damn jeans are nowhere to be found. I let out a small scream of frustration and walk over to my bed, just to plump myself on it. I let my eyes wander through this accommodation that is now my room. Isn't it odd that although this is now my place of welfare, I feel utterly uncomfortable and like Satan himself has sent me to hell?

These empty and pale walls remind me of the ones from a hospital, this bed is nothing more than a big piece of wood with a matrass that is as hard as a rock and the windows are so small that this room could easily be seen as a cell of a prison.

Ok, maybe I am exaggerating slightly, but still this place just does not feel very welcoming. I huff and push myself off my bed, heading to the boxes that are still unpacked. I crouch next to them and start to remove the content.

By the time of sunset I am almost done with unpacking and to my own surprise I actually begin, yes begin, to like my room. I placed a few images here and there and next to my drawer I hung up my big poster with all my polaroid's on them. It is one of my hobbies to take a lot of photographs of different places or just random pictures with my friends. With these images I can always relive that moment that I captured, which always plasters a small smile on my face, even at days at which I just hate everything and everyone. In fact, it's for days like today I love to look at my photographs and close my eyes, trying to imagine the exact moment the image was taken in.

Someone knocking my door rips me out of my thoughts. I quickly open my eyes and say with some force, in order to be heard outside my door: "Come in."

The door opens a few inches and my dad plops his head inside. When his eyes meet mine a small smile creeps up his lips. That smile does not reach his eyes though. I feel the same, dad.

"Sky, would you come down please? Dinner is ready" he softly remarks.

I nod in comprehension and together with my dad I make my way downstairs.

Together we enter the kitchen and join my mom, who is dipping a spoon in the sauce for the pasta, she then adds some more salt to the sauce and stirs it again.

My eyes wander to the table, which is already set, and I make my way over to take a seat. Once seated,  I take out my phone and start to text my friend Cathy.

Hey!

America sucks :( My room is so fucking empty without your presence... damn how I miss you and David.

I place my phone on the table and only seconds later in buzzes, letting me know that I received a new message.

Sky we went over this so many times, don't worry you'll be fine...

I miss you too though, so much!

I begin typing my response

I know, it's just so frustrating. I hate making new friends and you know how bad I am at making conversations with strangers.

I notice a movement near me and look up from my phone, only to find both my parents looking at me with the "we-want-to-enjoy-dinner-so-make-your-phone-disappear" expression. I roll my eyes, but press "send" quickly and place my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.  Giving both my parents a short fake smile I take the napkin in front of me and place it on my thighs. The food smells delicious and it is only then, I can feel the grumbling in my stomach, reminding me of how hungry I am.